


"My sewing machine's harder than that."

by RaysTheDead



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21926914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaysTheDead/pseuds/RaysTheDead
Summary: Dorothy challenges Hugh to try her sewing machine, he quickly learns that these machines are a little complex after all, and he comes to a world-shaking realisation.
Relationships: Hugh Collins/Dorothy "Dot" Williams
Comments: 21
Kudos: 54





	"My sewing machine's harder than that."

**Author's Note:**

> Hi yeah I binged this show and since I sew and am currently learning to drive, I wanted to give this a shot. Just a quick little one shot to keep the wheels turning, this kind of just fell out.

“I’d like to see you manage my sewing machine, Hugh Collins.”

Those were the words she said to him, and he made the dreadful mistake of taking her up on it. Hugh had always respected women, more than most men, he believed. It’s inevitable, growing up with a protestant mother who’s tough as nails. The contraption he was faced with, however, was not as simple as a matter of respect, and doing what he was told. Perhaps he had spoken a bit too soon about the machine, it had all these little levers and wheels on it... how complicated was it, to sew a bit of fabic?

“Don’t worry Hugh, you’re not going to be using that yet.” Dorothy’s hand brushed over his shoulder as she sat down with him. “We’re going to practise some basic stitching first.” Hugh furrowed his brow, it wasn’t that he was opposed to trying new things, he was more opposed to the idea of being a novice, especially since hand-sewing seemed simple enough. He knew he’d be safe in the hands of his Dorothy, but that didn’t change his attitude much.

“Surely you just…” he mimed the motion of weaving a needle in and out “don’t you?”

“Well, you can try repairing your trousers like that if you’d like, but…” Dorothy had a little smile on her lips “I’ll let you try first, then I’ll guide you.” She placed a needle, a spool of thread, and some scrap cloth in front of him. He picked up the needle, and unwound the thread.

“Ah.” He encountered problem number one. The eye of the needle was rather small, threading it would be no easy task. It made the tips of his fingers itch to get so close and miss, even with the magnifier. After a lot of fiddling, it eventually slipped through the tiny hole. “Right…” He muttered under his breath, and mimicked his motion before, into the cloth, out of the cloth.

“Your stitches _are_ very neat,” Dorothy smiled “but…” she gently tugged on the thread, and Hugh watched three stitches slip undone.

“So a knot would stop that, right?” He cut the thread from the spool with a pair of nearby scissors and tied a knot.

“In some cases, yes. But not all.” Dorothy picked up the cloth, and gave the thread a hearty tug. All the stitches came out, including the knot. “This material is loose enough to have a knot slip through it, and knots can sometimes make your stitches look messy -and I’ll thank you not to use my fabric scissors on anything that isn’t fabric next time.” She almost looked stern, but once their eyes met and blinked once, she smiled, and Hugh felt a tension he wasn’t even aware of release. He didn’t know he had made a mistake, and she wasn’t upset.

“A common method is to stitch three stitches on top of each other, then continue with the direction you wish to sew.” Her hands moved so quickly, he just about followed her. No wonder he caught more male pickpockets than female, women’s hand were far quicker and deft. “What you were doing was the running stitch, which is good for seams and gathering the fabric, but not very secure. Repairing will be most useful to you, I imagine. So I would recommend a darning stitch, pad stitch, or the one that Doctor Mac told me that was used for suturing patients.”

Hugh learned all three, or most of them at least. Once Dorothy was confident he understood enough about the basics of sewing, it was time to face the machine. Realistically, it wasn’t much unlike a car. It had a pedal to control the speed, it was fairly easy to turn or change direction, and horrible bloody accidents can happen with one wrong move or distraction.

“You need to always focus on the needle, the fabric, where you’re going next, and where your hands are going. I once worked with a girl who knew a girl who wasn’t paying attention and sewed into her own hand, right here.” Dorothy rubbed the skin between her index finger and her thumb.

“Dottie, I-”

“Oh humour us Hugh, I want to know if it really is more complex than a car, and clearly you’re the man for the job.” Miss Fisher herself came wandering into the room, Hugh made the mistake of pausing for a moment too long. “Well, I’m hardly going to learn how to do it, am I?” She laughed at the preposterous notion.

“It’s true. I found a dress she tried to hem once. Not a single straight stitch in sight. Oh- No offence intended, miss.” Dorothy smiled, and Miss Fisher raised her eyebrows as she took a drink from her glass through a smile, clearly no offence was taken.

“It’s not that complex, really. But I do think it would be interesting for you to learn.” Dorothy smiled and readied the material, she had made a ‘driving course’ outlined with chalk on the cloth. Hugh readied his foot over the pedal.

“Presser foot first…” He muttered to himself, “hand on the material, and-” there was a shrieking _whizz_ sound as he pressed the pedal, and the cloth shot towards him. Luckily the first stretch of the course was a straight line.

“Easy on the pedal Hugh!” Dorothy laughed, Hugh’s ears warmed, just a little, but clearly enough for Miss Fisher to pick up on. He silently pleaded the pair of these women wouldn’t distract him any more than they already were. “Try it like this.” Dorothy gently placed her foot on his, the pedal was pressed down gently, and the needle slowly moved in and out of the cloth. “Control the speed.” She removed her foot from his, and kept her hand on his back.

“Normally need a bit more of acceleration for a car.” Hugh chuckled nervously, and prepared for the first turn, which was a sharp one. “Just bring the pedal up to stop straight away?”

“Yes.” Dorothy confirmed. “Maybe if you do well on this, I’ll let you teach me how to drive a car properly.”

“Dot!” Miss Fisher cried.

“Sorry, Miss. I know you’ve offered.” Dorothy’s shoulders drew up her neck a little. “But I wouldn’t want to damage your lovely car.” Miss Fisher grinned and theatrically rolled her eyes.

“Is that a bet, Dottie?” Hugh grinned.

“No, nothing- it’s not a bet it’s a deal!” Dorothy protested.

“Do I get a say in this deal, Dot?” Miss Fisher raised her eyebrows. “I say Mr Butler has to be the one to grade Hugh on his efforts! If Hugh fails, I get to teach you _my_ _way_ of driving.”

“It’s a deal.” Hugh nodded, now furrowing his brow with the added pressure. Mr Butler was lovely, but he could be very strict at keeping things neat. Hugh brought the pedal up, and slowly turned the cloth.

“Wait, I can do this, can’t I?” Hugh lifted the presser foot, leaving the cloth to freely rotate with only the needle to keep it in place. “Oh, it’s like the opposite of a brake when you’re parked.” Dorothy cocked her head, Hugh took a moment to sift through the thoughts in his head, most of them focused on her, and how he enjoyed her teaching him. “When you’re stopped your brake stops you from moving altogether, and stops outside influences on the car. Such as rolling down the hill. But lifting the presser makes it so you can influence it from the outside, and turn it.” Dorothy and Miss Fisher looked at each other for a moment.

“That sounds about right, but the presser foot _does_ keep your stitches controlled and even.”

“Like how the break keeps your speed controlled and even?” Hugh raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, alright.” Dorothy laughed as she sat down next to him. “Come on, next turn is coming up.”

In time, Hugh got the hang of it. There were a few cut corners, and a mishap here and there, and Hugh didn’t doubt Mr Butler was observing every one of them.

“Why is it that you want to learn how to sew, Mr Collins?” Mr Butler asked as he pondered over a sharp turn that was supposed to be a gradual turn.

“W-Well I don’t really, Dottie said her sewing machine was more complex than a car and I wanted to see it for myself. She wanted to teach me, really.” Hugh was wringing his hands. He closed his fists tightly to stop himself. This wasn’t an exam! It was a fun, friendly test. Just a game between him and Dorothy that Miss Fisher and Mr Butler had got involved in.

“This is very good for a beginner… but Miss Williams was helping you along, wasn’t she?”

“Only a little.” Hugh grinned. “Wouldn’t have got far without her.”

“I know Miss Williams’s techniques when I see them.” Mr Butler grinned, and picked up a pen. “I’ll give you a conditional pass, Mr Collins.”

“Conditional?”

“Yes. The condition is that you continue to learn each other’s craft with a mutual respect.” Mr Butler’s smile could warm anyone’s heart, as though his grandfatherly-approval made everything alright in the world. “ _And_ come up with better excuses to spend time together. You know you’re welcome here, Hugh. I’m sure Miss Fisher is perfectly alright with you coming to see Dorothy. It’s certainly been long enough to tell how serious the both of you are about this.”

“I… wouldn’t want to always be showing up at her workplace.” Hugh chuckled, and pondered Mr Butler’s words. He really had wanted to see a new side of Dorothy, now that he thought about it. He wanted to see her teach, and with teaching came care. She had proven herself to be brilliant at both, and even motherly while doing so. Mr Butler no doubt saw the realisation hit Hugh as he realised what his curious nature had been seeking, without him consciously realising it.

“’Art Deco’ is all the rage with the jewellers these days… but Dorothy is more fond of the traditional, isn’t she?”

Hugh tried to make a mental note to remember this moment forever, and Mr Butler’s advice, but the millions of thoughts and feelings rushing through him made it difficult. The pride of having Mr Butler and Dorothy’s approval, and conquering the Singer sewing machine. The ambition of having a new skill. The relief of knowing he would be the one to teach Dorothy to learn how to drive safely, according to the law, rather than Miss Fisher and her numerous speeding offences. The warmth of having spent hours with his love, and seeing this new side of her. The crippling fear and excitement of knowing he had subconsciously been considering her to be his wife, and mother of his children, even going as far as to audition her without even being aware of it. Of course, the bewilderment of how on earth he would go about asking her, was creeping upon him. Not to mention the issue of a Catholic or Protestant wedding… but for the moment, he chose to bask in the sheer ecstasy he felt, knowing he loved her so much, he wanted her to be his wife.

Sewing really was more complex than driving.

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, driving is scarier because of other people on the road, and a car is a much bigger machine to manage... but it simpler, and smoother too. It's just the multitasking, really. That's the hardest thing for me. Knowing how to steer with one hand, raise your speed, get off the clutch, cover the break, get back on the clutch, change gear, off the clutch again, all in a few seconds and NOT hit anyone or say fuck is tricky, but that's more advanced than "Get in and go"   
> Sewing machines though... those fuckers smell fear. They smell your comic con deadlines and break the night before. They will present problems youve never even heard of happening before. Just one tiny thing will happen, the temperature will drop by a single degree, and BAM it's all going wrong. I exclusively hand-sew everything now, I've had a fight with every sewing machine I've met.
> 
> I've always liked the idea of Hugh being a tiny bit overzealous with running his mouth about womanly hobbies (but its the 20s, it was pretty much shame-women-hours all the time) and being uneasy when it comes to the idea of needing to be new at something in order to learn. I enjoy playing with gender and sociology like this, and this fell out.


End file.
